


The Three Agents

by Beryll (Rynthjan)



Category: Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Agents, Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 08:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynthjan/pseuds/Beryll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three CIA agents working in the White House get in trouble...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Three Agents

**Author's Note:**

> Written together with my darling husband Osiris Brackhaus

16.07.2003, 01.30am - Washington D.C., Downtown

It was early July and already, the heat wavering in the city-canyons of Washington DC was so oppressive that even at 11pm, they were virtually devoid of life, all the poor creatures trapped in town having fled to the air-conditioned skyscrapers, huddling in the artificial cold.

The sky was dreary with smog and thick low clouds that refused to shed rain, instead forming a lid over the town, keeping all the heat inside.

It could by no means be described as a nice evening and yet there were some cheerful souls about who were having fun. At least the booming laughter, echoing in the nearly empty highest floor of a huge parking garage would have led any listener to that guess.

It would have been an accurate guess.

The tall rangy man leaning precariously far over the safety railing, gazing down into the street many, many yards below was in a splendid mood induced by a healthy dose of alcohol and so were his two companions. They were all clad pretty much alike, wearing dark jeans and rather stylish leather jackets of different cuts. The blonde one was trying to pull the first back from the gaping abyss, the other was leaning against a black sports car, a bottle of expensive red wine in one hand, the matching, half filled glass in the other, grinning at his friends antics. 

"Karl! Will you come down! You'll break your stubborn neck and I'm not jumping after you to catch you!" The blonde poked his black-haired friend in the side.

"You're no fun, Sean!" Karl complained but left his place at the railing to trail back to Viggo and the wine bottle. "Anything left or did you drink it all?" he asked with little hope.

Viggo shook the bottle and smirked. "A drop maybe. A real gentleman wouldn't drink the last bit but I'm sure it won't hurt you."

Sean laughed and Karl tried to put on a grim face, failing miserably. "Give me that!" he growled and freed the bottle from Viggo's loose grip to hurl it over the railing.

They all waited for the sound of it shattering and were not disappointed. They also heard a loud shout of shock and immediately ducked low, suppressing wild giggles.

"Oh my god!" Sean whispered. "One of these days you'll kill an innocent bystander! You're impossible! How did you ever get your license?" He hit Karl over the head mockingly and the youngest of the three men pressed his hand over his mouth not to laugh out loud.

Viggo downed the rest of his wine and grinned at his friends. "So? You two still up to it or will you chicken out?"

Sean groaned. "I'm very drunk... I really shouldn't..."

"Awh... chicken!" Karl announced. "I'm up to it no matter how drunk! You'll see!" he grinned at Viggo. "I'll beat you!" He took the glass from Viggo's hand and threw it in the general direction of the railing, shattering it and sending shards flying everywhere. "Let's do it now!"

Viggo got back to his feet a little unsteadily. "You won't beat me pup! I was doing this when you were still in High School, wasn't I, Sean?"

"So you were." Sean nodded gravely, grabbing Viggo's outstretched hand and pulling himself to his feet. "You're a mad bastard." 

"Does any of you remember where we left the bikes?" Karl asked, blinked at the low ceiling of the parking floor that seemed to drift here and there in front of his eyes.

"Over there." Viggo said and gestured vaguely in the direction of one of the elevators. "Don't be a spoiled brat, Sean, play with us!" He tugged on Sean's arm who was trying hard to frown but wasn't quite able to arrange his face accordingly.

"If I kill myself, it'll be your fault!" he accused Viggo who just grinned.

"I promise I'll visit your grave everyday and put a note on your headstone: 'He died cause he listened to his friends'. Now come on, don't be a chicken."

"Yeah, come on!" Karl agreed and together he and Viggo dragged Sean in the general direction of where they thought their bikes were.

They were still parked where they had left them when they embarked on this evening of wild drinking in several bars that had opened in the month since they had last had a free day. Three sleek black-and-chrome motorbikes, new and shiny and looking very, very fast.

Viggo patted his affectionately. "So to repeat this: whoever is down first doesn't get meal duty for a week, who comes down last gets breakfast duty for a week?"

Both Karl and Sean nodded though Sean didn't look too happy about it. "Next time I'll make up a challenge where I can win." he grumbled and got on his bike carefully like it was a wild stallion dancing in front of him. "I know I'll regret this..."

The two others ignored his complaints and got on their bikes as well.

"It's really no fun at this time of day." Viggo said as he started his bike. "Nobody really uses this place in the middle of the night so it's not as dangerous as it should be."

Karl nodded vigorously, Sean just groaned.

"Let's do it before I change my mind." he said, then he let his bike roar wildly and swerved away from his friends towards the ramp that was clearly marked with 'no entry' signs.

Two more bikes filled the empty floor with their howl and followed him like beasts on the hunt. Right in front of the ramp the three of them stopped and looked at each other for a moment, contemplating their foolish bet.

Then Sean grinned. "Ready? GO!"

Yanking the gas up to full throttle he sped down the ramp, followed by the howling of his startled friends and then the roar of their bikes.

It was ten stories down to the exit on the street. Ten turns of the ramp to race. And all three of them coaxed every bit of speed out of their bikes, each taxing his skills to the limit of survive the neck-breaking race.

Two turns down Viggo caught up to Sean, trying to get past him proved more difficult, as Sean blocked him quite effectively, not allowing him to get by. Soon Karl had caught up to the two of them and all three where mercilessly battling for two more turns to get into a position to leave the others behind.

In the fifth turn Viggo finally managed to maneuver his bike past Sean's. He shouted with glee as he was now ahead of the other two and quite sure that he would be able to win.

Two more turns down and Viggo was still ahead, Sean and Karl hot on his heels and nearly head on head.

So intent were they on not losing a crucial inch or their grip on the bikes that they only noticed the car peacefully coming up the ramp when Viggo screamed and pulled his bike to the side with a screech of brakes, getting past the car by a hair's breadth.

Karl managed to pull his bike to the other side and get past as well but Sean was in the middle of the path right next to Karl so he did the only thing possible. Instead of pulling the brake he pulled up the bike, violently hitting the car on the hood. For a split second he could see the wide-eyed face of a woman behind the windscreen staring at him in utter shock. Then he drove up the car at full speed and right over it, jumping down on the other side quite ahead of Viggo.

Both Karl and Viggo were shocked enough that Sean was able to gain a whole turn of the ramp and made it down first, shooting from the exit of the parking lot like a bullet and speeding down the street without looking back, followed by first Viggo and then Karl who both knew perfectly well that they would be in a hell of a lot of trouble if they were caught.

\---

16.07.2003, 06.30am - Washington D.C., CIA Headquarters

"Is there ANY explanation for this?"

Mister Weaving slammed the file onto his polished hardwood desk, grainy photos slithering out of the dark blue covers, showing the horrified face of a woman next to her demolished car. 

His voice was even, but the way his veins shoved at his temples was a clear sign of warning not to tax his patience any more than necessary. 

Opposite him, three men who knew all too well what had caused the incident in the parking garage were standing like schoolboys caught smoking in the bathroom. And not for the first time, apparently. Not even their crisp black suits and glasses did anything to make them look less self-conscious. 

"Yes?" Weaving asked, fuming and smiling politely at the same time. It made him look like he was either about to throw up or spit fire. 

"We, err, Sir..." Viggo was the first one to speak under the searing gaze of his supervisor, at least trying to offer an excuse. "We were chasing a fugitive, potential terrorist?"

Weaving's mirthless smile turned even more acidic, telling them that he wasn't in the mood to back up their antics this time. 

"Sorry, Sir." Karl sounded genuinely rueful. "We were pretty sure the cameras in the building were all - um - out of service."

Viggo hid his eyes behind his hand in a gesture of dread. 

"Yes." Weaving's voice got a vaguely amused touch as he explained: "The place’s owner has a complaint out against the vandals who shot down the security cameras along the driveway some time ago. We can only hope that some witness will show up sooner or later."

Only the uneasy shuffling of Karl's feet answered him. 

"Are you completely out of your fucking minds?" Weaving's voice was now close to getting loud, a rare thing indeed for the usually so controlled man. "Being in service of the CIA doesn't give you a free pass to do as you please, as prestigious as your current assignment might be."

Until now, their supervisor had always tried to hush up everything if one of their adventures had gone a bit to far. But this time, he definitely seemed out of patience. 

"And please, Agent Mortensen, Agents Bean and Urban. Please don't forget that it is nothing more than that. An assignment. And if ever anything like this comes across my desk again, I swear by God you'll be guarding nothing but the lawn on Arlington. It’s above or below the ground, I still have to consider."

He definitely was in a miserable mood today, the three agents thought almost simultaneously. 

"Go back on duty, and stay low for once. And I'll see what I can do to cover up this mess. I bet Mister McKellen is already busy calling dozens of Senators to see my head rolling." 

Weaving turned to his laptop on the desk again, but as none of the men in front of him moved, he looked up again. 

"You're dismissed."

\----

16.07.2003, 08:00pm - Washington D.C., White House, kitchen

The kitchen lay quiet. The storm of busy service personnel preparing dinner and cleaning up afterwards had passed, leaving the kitchen behind to move on to some late housecleaning. Very soon even that would pass and the White House would prepare for another well-guarded, peaceful night.

Right now the only noises in the kitchen were the humming of the huge refrigerator, the occasional turning of a newspaper page and a peculiar slightly wet, sucking sound from behind the kitchen counter.

"Why do you think he was so riled?" Sean's voice sounded from said counter, slightly strained as if a part of him was occupied with something else.

Viggo didn't look up from his newspaper. He was sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of cooling coffee before him, studying business pages. "Maybe the fact that we got in trouble yet again?" he replied. "Even after he threatened to have Karl skinned after last time?"

The sucking sound ended suddenly with a wet smack and Sean groaned in disappointment.

"It wasn't my fault!" Karl's voice came from behind the same kitchen counter. "I didn't drive over the hood of a car!"

"And what was I supposed to do?" Sean grumbled. "Let that lady run me over?"

Viggo sighed. "We shouldn't have done it at all..."

"It was your idea." Karl pointed out quite correctly and Viggo busied himself with the newspaper.

Some shuffling was to be heard behind the counter, then Sean sighed in pleasure, whispering: "That's it, take more of it..."

Viggo was seriously considering joining his two colleagues, when the kitchen door suddenly opened to admit the president's husband, carrying his little daughter on his arm.

For a long moment Viggo's heart stopped beating and he stared at the young man with the child in mute shock. Then he put on a pleasant smile, lowering the newspaper.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Tyler?" he asked, silently praying that Sean and Karl would get the hint and remain quiet and motionless.

The president's husband smiled back, adjusting his hold on his two-year-old daughter. "Little Lesley here just wants a bit of hot milk before she goes to bed."

Before he could say more, Viggo got up quickly. "Why don't you sit down, Mr. Tyler. I'll take care of it for you."

"Really, Agent Mortensen, you needn't bother. I didn't want to disturb your reading."

"No problem," Viggo briskly hurried over to the refrigerator, which happened to stand behind a certain kitchen counter, "it's a pleasure." He gestured for the President's husband to sit down and when he did, concentrating on arranging his daughter in his lap, Viggo kicked the two naked men behind the counter hard, making Sean bite his lip and Karl bite something else that made Sean bite down even harder.

Then Viggo took out the milk and busied himself heating it, while pleasantly smiling at the sleepy little girl. "She looks like she's almost out cold already." he said, trying to make conversation to muffle any sounds from behind the counter.

Mr. Tyler nodded, smiling at his daughter fondly. "It was a long day for her, photo shooting, you know? I think she mostly just wanted to cling to me a little longer." He nuzzled his daughter gently and Viggo wondered once more, how such an innocent and friendly man could be happily married to an icy bitch like Mrs. President. But obviously it worked.

He poured the hot milk into a mug and carried it over to the table, making sure to direct another glare at Sean and Karl when he passed them. "Here you go, Mr. Tyler."

The president's husband smiled, got up and arranged his daughter in one arm, picking up the mug with the other hand. "Thank you very much, Agent Mortensen."

"You're welcome." Viggo replied automatically, watching with bone deep relief, as the young man left the kitchen and the door closed behind him.

For about a minute there was silence, Viggo offering a quiet prayer to whatever deity had helped them out of this trap.

Then Sean's voice asked softly from behind the counter: "Is he gone?"

Viggo snorted. "No Sean, he is standing right here next to me, waiting for you to say something."

Sean moaned, as Karl took up his sucking again to apologize for the bite earlier. "You're a mean motherfucker, Viggo," he complained between whimpers of pleasure.

Viggo grinned. "Yeah, that's why I saved your asses... speaking of which..." he walked around the counter, looking down at the two men, Sean leaning with his back against the counter, Karl lying between his legs, giving head. "I think, I'd like a piece of said asses too..."

\---

16.07.2003, 09:30pm - Washington D.C., White House, left wing

Wandering through the silent corridor, Viggo tried to figure out why Mr. Weaving had been that ill tempered about their little adventure this time. Usually, he reacted with a lot of shouting and cursing and then forgot everything.   
Like that one time when they got into a veritable brawl with some regular cops, as those blockheads didn't want to let them pass their barricades. Admittedly, they hadn't had any papers or assignments, and trying to get to that Rolling Stones concert without tickets had proven somewhat difficult even for them. 

But today he had really been angry. 

We shouldn't have done that, Viggo thought to himself, it was completely unnecessary. Like all the other times your friends got you in trouble, a sarcastic voice in his head remarked unasked-for. 

But what was the fun in having such a job as they had when one wasn't supposed to get anything out of it? Being assigned to the special unit charged with guarding the President's husband was a prestigious position, but nothing really exciting. At least, not since President Tyler was living in the White House. 

Although she had faced strong opposition, she had managed to be elected as the first female President ever, leaving the whole public at an utter loss on how to title her husband. Smiling at the thought of Mr. Tyler, Viggo took a turn to the President's private rooms, just to make sure. The President's husband was a calm, surprisingly introvert person, caring for his wife and daughter in a way that made him the most popular President's spouse since Jaqueline Kennedy. And that although he barely made public appearances. 

That he was quite a handsome man surely helped the whole situation. 

His wife, gorgeous as she looked, was made of a different kind of stone, though. Hard stone. She was a person Viggo wouldn't want to have crossed personally, and her headstrong way more than once had caused both her friends and adversaries to blink in shock and mutter in disdain.

But tonight, peaceful silence was the only thing the agent found in the rooms he was checking. Little Lesley slept in her little bed, spread-eagled and tangled in her bed sheets as always. Yet somewhere in the back of Viggo's mind, there was a nagging feeling that something was odd. So once again, he toured the rooms, carefully scanning each corner to see if there was something he had missed. 

After a while, he stood in the empty living room, pensively staring at the huge oil paintings on the wall, scratching his chin. Slowly, his vague uneasiness coalesced to a small, heavy lump of dread in his chest, and as he raised his sleeve where he had clipped on his comlink's microphone, he desperately hoped he was mistaken. 

"Karl?" He almost whispered not to wake up Little Lesley. "Karl, can you hear me?"

"Sure," his colleague’s voice came through the speaker in his ear, a bit muffled but otherwise perfectly audible. "What's taking you so long? Your beer is getting warm."

"Karl, this is serious." Viggo took a deep breath, trying to get rid of the images of Sean and Karl alone in the kitchen, and of what the three of them had done down there not even an hour ago. "Karl, ask Sean if Mr. Tyler had any appointment tonight that hadn't been on my schedule."

"Why, is there... " Then finally, Karl seemed to get it as well. Muffled noised told Viggo the two men were talking, then the characteristic scratching noises announced Sean switching on his own headset. 

"Viggo?" Sean sounded serious enough for a change. "In so far as I know, he should be sleeping peacefully in his bed. He's got a busy day tomorrow."

"Well," Viggo said with a voice seeping with anticipated mortification, "Let's all pray he suddenly started sleepwalking or takes his nap in the attic. For I haven't seen him anywhere on the grounds or in his rooms."

For a moment, all was silent, then Viggo ordered sharply: "Now come up here, you oafs! Help me search. I'd prefer to be sure of the disaster before I go inform the leader of the free world that we have misplaced her significant other!"

"Oh fuck", Sean and Karl added almost simultaneously. 

"Yeah. Exactly."

The evening had started already pretty bad, but there apparently were still many miles to go on the way down. 

\----

16.07.2003, 11:30pm - Washington D.C., White House, Oval Office

 

"Mrs. President?"

Staring at him across her huge office desk, President Tyler sat upright in her leather armchair, her dove-grey costume impeccable as always, her hair piled up on her head in perfect curls despite the hour.  
Only the slight frown in her unmoving face and the way she pointedly clicked her fingernails on the desk showed that she had been at least partially informed about tonight's happenings.

"Yes, Agent Mortensen?"

"Ma'am, I – "

He had to swallow hard before he could continue, the president's gaze turning icier every second.

"Mrs. President, Ma'am, I think we have lost your husband."

"Yes. I've gathered that much." 

Her dark eyes glimmered with a suppressed fury that made even Sean flinch. "And Mr. Weaving has kindly informed me that this could happen because of my husband's personal guards being engaged in... sexual activities in the kitchen."

The three agents turned towards their supervisor who was standing at the sidelines, his face frozen to a mask of professional briskness. Not even a single emotion showed in Weaving's features, and soon enough, all of them thought it easier to face the president's wrath than this sub-zero display of utter disappointment. 

And President Tyler still glared at them, obviously waiting for any reaction.

"We - ", Viggo started, then took a deep breath and said: "Yes, Ma'am."

The President's clicking fingernails stopped moving with a last, distinctive stab at the desk. 

"You and your team can count yourself lucky that our country has laws that protect imbeciles like you. Though right now, I am severely tempted to forget that. Skinning and flogging suddenly sound not so outdated concepts to me anymore."

Uneasy, leaden silence filled the room, only the constant thudding noises from helicopters outside heard in the oval office.  
Then, with a deep sigh and a last glare at the three men in front of her, President Tyler turned towards her security chief, asking: 

"So, Hugo, what do we know so far?"

Mr. Weaving stepped forward to her desk, completely ignoring the agents. Laying a frighteningly thin folder on the desk, he explained:

"Not much, Mrs. President, I fear. At 0800 a woman arrived with the standard laundry van, all checks showing nothing irregular. She left the room where she was supposed to pick up her stuff, heading almost straight for your husband's quarters."

"Almost?"

"We have her taped, but apparently, she was impressively well informed about our schedules. We have four agents surveilling close to four hundred cameras on the grounds, Mrs. President. The cameras are all taped, but only monitored in turn, so that there are always some that are not screened for a few seconds. She passed each and every single camera within the window it was not being monitored. She stopped at some corners just long enough to let the regular guards pass. Her plan was a masterpiece, and brilliantly executed."

Weaving paused only long enough to cast a spiteful glance at the agents, then continued. 

"We have never thought it possible for anyone to know these facts, get the current schedules and find the one path through this four-dimensional maze and then walk through it flawlessly enough not to trigger any alarm."

"But apparently, someone did."

"Yes, Mrs. President, I'm sorry. We had thought that to have direct guards around your husband would be irregular enough to prevent any such plan from succeeding, but apparently, those were very conveniently indisposed."

A long moment passed before anyone in the Oval Office spoke again, and the three agents were sure both Weaving and the President were pondering a million deaths for them. Then, tensely, the President said:

"What do we know of her?"

"Not much." Weaving opened the folder and took out a few pictures taken by the security cams. "Her name's Cate Blanchet, a rather high-profile left-wing eco-terrorist. But she's been lying low for the last three years, and we thought she'd been out of it for good. She was one of the three death-row prisoners that escaped three years ago during the Alabama-incident."

"Holy shit." Viggo's whispered comment almost drowned in the noise from outside, but Sean was standing by close enough to notice, and also to see that his colleagues face was ashen pale. 

"Any leads on her?" 

"Nothing yet, Ma'am. Considering her actions so far, she might be everywhere. Even in a fighter-jet heading for Mexico. But I can assure you all available staff is working on it right now."

"That's the least I can expect, Hugo." As if she suddenly remembered the agents standing in front of her desk, she turned towards them. "And about you, you.... You're suspended from active duty, and you're under house arrest. And make bloody sure you're never be in the same room with me without a witness. For your own health."

"You can leave your weapons and ID's with me, Agents", Weaving said in a flat voice. "I'll have someone escort you to your flats, and don't even think of leaving."

"Except for court martial", President Tyler added caustically. "And pray we'll find my husband soon and unharmed. Pray, for that will be the only thing you'll ever again be allowed to do."

\----

17.07.2003, 04.30am - Washington D.C., Agents Bean's flat

Sean looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, silently meeting his own gaze. He did look really fucked up. Dark circles showing under his eyes, his hair slightly disheveled, his brow creased with a frown he had not been able to ease off his face ever since Viggo had reported the president's husband missing.

There seemed to be quiet reproach in the eyes of his reflection. Or maybe it was just there cause he expected to see it. Even with all the shit he had done since he was in the employ of the CIA and before that he had never felt as bad as he did now.

Up until now it had been harmless fun and nobody had been seriously hurt. Especially not somebody he genuinely liked and adored like Mr. Orlando Tyler, who was a caring husband and father and everything one could hope for to temper his wife's steely views on life.

He pushed his hands through his hair, mentally going through the list of items he had packed up. Mini MP, check, fake CIA, FBI and MI5 IDs, check, basic security pack, check, multi-function knife hidden in his left boot, check, some length of light weight extra durable rope, check, comlink, check.

Now he just needed to get his two colleges and they could set out to search for Mr. Tyler.

There was no question in his mind that he would not sit idle, waiting for others to do the job that he should have done. To convince Viggo and Karl that this was the right thing to do was an entirely different matter. With grim determination Sean swore to himself that he would go on his own - even if he had no clue at all where to start looking - should his two friends refuse to come.

He nodded to his reflection in the mirror and then went to the bedroom to pick up his backpack, when he heard the sound of the lock on his bedroom window being opened. Not with a key but with the distinct repeated clicking of somebody breaking in.

With a single smooth move he had his MP out and took cover behind his wardrobe, weapon at the ready to wait for the intruder.

A few seconds later he heard the lock click open, then the slight creaking of his window. He waited till he heard somebody climb inside, then he swung from his hiding place, weapon firmly trained on the intruder.

He was just as surprised as Viggo, who stared down the barrel of the MP, slowly raising his eyebrow.

"Correct me, if I'm wrong," he finally said with a slight touch of amusement, "but weren't we supposed to hand over our weapons?"

"Correct me, if I'm wrong," Sean answered mimicking his tone and simultaneously lowering his MP, "but weren't we supposed to stay in our flats. And in case you don't know, breaking into people's homes was still illegal when I checked last."

For a long moment they looked at one another, both taking in the others outfit. They were both wearing black jeans and shirts, combat boots and jackets looking quite ordinary, even though they knew they were well armored special designs. 

It was obvious they had come to the same conclusions about their duty in the last couple of hours, so Sean refrained from asking Viggo what he was doing there at that hour.

Instead he finally said: "So do we wait here for Karl or do we go get him?"

"We go get him." Viggo replied just as casually. "He will still be in shock. Will take him a while to come around. But he can do that when we are on our way."

With that he turned and wordlessly climbed out of the window again. Sean followed him quickly and quietly, wondering if they had any chance in finding the president's husband at all. After all they did not have the intelligence machinery of the CIA backing them up anymore. But it did not really matter. It was find him or face many years in military prison for their failure to protect him in the first place.

\---

17.07.2003, 05.00am, Washington D.C., Agent Urban's flat

Sean eyed the two agents in the car in front of Karl's apartment building with slight contempt. They were not exactly paying close attention to the entrance of the building and it wouldn't have been much of a problem for him and Viggo just to walk in the front door without being noticed or for Karl to walk out.

"They are not that much better than we were," he commented dryly.

Viggo nodded. "Yeah, but they are just guarding an incompetent agent, not the husband of the president."

Sean winced at that. "Backdoor?" he asked.

Viggo shook his head. "Window. There was one right in front of your door. And in front of mine too. I bet Karl has his own. Hugo really wants to make sure we don't do more damage."

They parked Viggo's black jeep behind the building and made their way to the fire escape they had used to break into Karl's flat before to play a prank on him. Karl had paid extra attention to securing his windows after that but they were pretty sure they would get in anyway. After all Viggo had some special training in that field of work.

Soon Sean was leaning against the railing of the fire escape, watching Viggo work on the window's locks. They could hear the TV inside, turned extra loud. Some sports event. 

Sean wondered if Karl was even there or if he had turned the TV up to disguise his departure. Wouldn't it be fun, if they had to chase each other all over the city?

He rubbed his brow, thoughtfully staring at Viggo's back. There was a certain tension in his long time colleague and friend that he had not seen before. Granted, Viggo tended to be more stiff than he and Karl but not as tense as he was now. Like there was something weighing him down. Sean itched to simply ask what it was but he didn't want to disturb Viggo in his work.

Finally the lock clicked open, the security alert staying undisturbed.

Viggo climbed inside without another glance at Sean, who followed quickly. The kitchen lay dark and quiet. The only light coming through the open living room door.

Sean felt almost disappointed when he spotted one of Karl's naked feet hanging over the armrest of the stylish leather couch. Obviously Karl was not as worried for their charge. He was watching TV instead.

Viggo slipped into the living room quietly. Sean made a quick detour to the fridge to get a cold beer, then he stopped in the doorframe to watch Viggo lean over a Karl who seemed to be asleep. After a bit of poking Karl woke from his stupor, sitting up and then staring at Viggo in shock.

Sean strolled in as well to sit down in one of the large armchairs and popped open his beer.

"What..." Karl stuttered.

"We are going to go look for Mr. Tyler." Viggo announced. "Care to join us?"

"Are you nuts?" Karl rubbed his eyes as if he couldn't believe that Viggo and Sean were really there. "Aren't we in enough trouble already? Hugo will have us skinned, if we so much as set foot outside our apartments!"

"And you think he won't, if we stay put?" Sean asked, taking a long swing from the bottle.

Karl looked from Sean to Viggo and back in something close to comic despair. "That's just bullshit! You have no plan whatsoever, right? How are we to find him? Even Hugo doesn't have a clue where to start looking!"

"I have." Viggo remarked quietly, making Sean start in surprise.

"You do?" he asked, sudden hope stirring in his heart.

Viggo sat down on the couch with a sigh, pushing sleepy Karl's legs aside. "Yeah, I think, I do."

Karl's mind seemed to slowly pick up on the information. "And how come you know something even the almighty CIA computers don't know?" he asked, sounding more than a bit miffed.

"I know where Cate has her hideout. Or at least where she used to have her hideout. And as far as I know it was never cleared out by the CIA cause they didn't know about it."

"Cate?" Sean and Karl asked simultaneously. "Since when are you on first name terms with an international terrorist?" Sean continued.

Viggo rubbed his face tiredly. "We... used to be on first name terms... She's my ex-wife."

"She is WHAT?!" Sean could hardly believe his ears and even Karl suddenly sat up straight.

"You are married to a terrorist?" Karl asked incredulously.

"WAS married, Karl. We got divorced long before she really got going in that career." Viggo tried to explain but he sounded all but happy.

"Does the CIA know about that?" Sean asked.

Viggo shrugged. "If they check close enough they should be able to find out. After all I testified against her, when she was tried 4 years ago."

Sean pressed the cold bottle against his brow. "Let me get this straight, you testified against your wife and put her in the electric chair?"

"Obviously not." Viggo snarled and they all stayed quiet for a while after this revelation.

"I didn't know she got away until I saw the footage of her." Viggo finally explained. "She is a very dangerous woman. She will kill Mr. Tyler without any second thoughts, if she does not get whatever it is she wants. We must find her before that."

"So where do you think she is?" Karl asked quietly.

"Canada." Viggo answered. "She has a lair up there that nobody knows about. It... it used to be a place where just the two of us went when we were still on... better terms."

"So why didn't you tell Hugo about that?" Sean asked.

Viggo shrugged. "Because this is the only chance we have to redeem ourselves. And because I know that Cate will kill the president's husband, if she sees anything to raise her suspicion. But I might be able to get close to her."

Karl snorted. "Sure... after you got her a death sentence. I would take you back too..."

Viggo glared at Karl. "I was more thinking along the lines of 'she will be glad to take me prisoner which might occupy her attention long enough for the two of you to free Mr. Tyler'."

\---

17.07.2003, 07:30pm, about an hour's drive from Portland, ME

"What about we stop here for a break, I get rid of my last drinks and buy us some new ones?" Sean asked as he steered their car onto the parking lot of a cheap wayside motel & diner. "And Karl definitely looks as if he could need something solid to eat."

The dark-haired agent nodded vigorously, bobbing in the rear like a child kept too long in the confines of a car. 

Viggo moaned soundlessly. "Yes. Alright", he answered tensely. "But hurry. We don't know how long it'll take Mr. Weaving to figure out where we are going. And every moment we lose is wasting what little chance we have."

"Can I have a Mountain Dew?" Karl obviously enjoyed his role as annoying kid to no end. "Please? Pretty please?"

Viggo turned around and tried to give him his best utterly unamused stare, while Sean left the car with a soft laugh. 

"Oh come on, Viggo!" Karl tried to cheer up his colleague. "Can't you see this as the big adventure it is? Do you always have to be that dull?"

"If I remember correctly," Viggo replied in something pretty close to a snarl. "It had been you we had to drag along for the first steps on this 'adventure'. And no, I don't have to. But I'm working on it."

Even his own attempt at humor couldn't ease the lately perpetual frown on his face, and Viggo stared out of the open window at the parking cars.

"Good Lord, Viggo", Karl went on behind him. "You know the saying: When you're in it, it’s a catastrophe, when you're out of it, it becomes an adventure. Why can't we leave out the first part and directly go to the latter one as we all know it'll be what we'll end up with anyway? Okay, you'd say because we can't know that we won't end up dead before it becomes an adventure, but isn't that all the more a reason to - "

Viggo cut off his babbling colleague with a sharp gesture of his hand. "What have I always told you and Sean about the FBI's problem with number plates?"

Startled by the unfitting change in subject, it took Karl a heartbeat or two to reply. "That they can't get into their heads not to buy systematic number-plates.... But what does that have to do with - "

"Karl, honey, look outside. Pretty please."

Still blinking slightly confused, the youngest of the three agents looked outside, scanning the other cars for anything he could put a pattern to. And slowly, came to the same, utterly unpleasant conclusion as his grumpy colleague. 

"Holy shit....", Karl whispered as he noticed what kind of wasp's nest they were sitting in the middle of. "Not a single car that doesn't fit..."

"See?" With a grim grunt, Viggo shoved a handgun into the waist of his jeans, hiding it underneath the pullover he had insisted on wearing despite the heat. "Go, start the car. Don't hurry. I'll get Sean out. And if he ever again asks why he should fucking learn what I tell him to, you've got my explicit permission to whack him. Wait for us close to the door."

Calmly, as if just having decided that having a pee didn't sound like too bad an idea, Viggo left the car and strolled down the graveled place towards where Sean had disappeared into the building. 

The dark blond man was just standing at the cashier's desk, chatting jovially with the young woman at the till. Viggo walked straight up to him, leaning over his shoulder.

"Sean, hurry. We gotta leave."

Immediately, Sean's face sobered up. "Trouble?"

"Don't look left", Viggo said with a nod, sighing helplessly as his colleague reflexively scanned the room to his left. "Great."

"Here," Sean smirked at the young lady at the counter, handing her a single bill. "Keep the change."

"Sean." Once again, Viggo was somewhat happy that Sean's name was just perfect to be hissed in a very accusing way. Grabbing the blond agent at the arm, and without paying any notice to the winks he gave the girl at the counter, he pulled him towards the diner's door. 

"What?", Sean asked in a perfect inconspicuously low voice. "They haven't noticed a single thing..."

"Yeah, that's why they're not working for the CIA", Viggo replied acerbically, "But given our recent luck, I definitely wouldn't count on it."

\---

17.07.2003, 08:40pm, Old Orchard Bay, Barleyman's Lane. 

"And you're sure he's living there?"

Viggo didn't sound too convinced as he stopped their car across the road from a neat little house that looked as if just having been copied and pasted in from Cabbot Cove. Behind the white lattice fence, on the white-washed patio, some fishing nets were hung out for drying, and next to a rocking chair stood two neat piles of wooden caskets that looked just like the ones used for decoration in the sea-food departments of big department stores. The sun was setting in a glorious display of amber and red, adding its own touch to the almost surreal moment.

"Sure like hell." Karl had a certain, nostalgic shimmer in his eyes both his colleagues were not sure about how to judge. "Colin lived here when I last saw him, and he's never been the one to move. Look, he grew up not very far from here, we both went to college in Portland, and he came back to live here of all places."

"College." Sean scratched his by now noticeably stubbled chin. "You said you were 'friends', then?"

"Yup." Karl nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the house as if trying to spot the inhabitant. "Close friends."

"Karl", Viggo interrupted, "Just to get this straight: We're just 'colleagues', so when you say 'close' does that mean you were married or something?"

"Or something." The youngest of the three agents grinned widely, apparently thinking of something very pleasant, turning his attention back to the two other men in the car. "He'll be glad to help us, I swear."

Sean and Viggo looked at each other, doubting that their problem of getting to Canada would find such a simple solution. 

"So", Karl said, rubbing his hands in anticipation. "What are we waiting for? I'm sure he'll offer us some of his crab-stew. Delicious stuff, I swear!"

"Stop swearing." Viggo rubbed his brow, frowning. "Don't you maybe want to go on your own first?"

"Why? My friends are Colin's friends. He's a very sociable chap."

"Yeah. That's why he's living in the last house half a mile beyond the end of the paved road in the last rotten settlement this side of civilization", Sean mumbled into his hand, then turned around to Karl. "Then let's go. Can't wait here forever."

"And I don't want one of the neighbors to call the police because they think we're loitering", Viggo added as he left the car, only to hear Sean ask softly: 

"Which neighbors?"

Completely ignoring the his colleagues' comments, Karl stepped out of the car, stretched like a lazy cat and walked over to the house his 'close friend' Colin was supposed to live in. Almost leisurely, the young agent jumped over the fence, and walked onto the patio with a grin in his face as if he was bringing a lottery check. 

The two other men followed him in a certain careful distance, watching their colleague either saving their collective asses or getting them even deeper into the shit they had been in chin-deep since last evening. Not a nice picture, but appropriate. 

As nobody reacted on Karl's first use of the doorbell, he rang again, this time enhancing the effect with some solid knocks against the door. 

This time, someone lit the light in the hallway, noisily walking down some stairs. The front door was opened by an admittedly handsome man about Karl's age, fierce dark eyes under melancholic eyebrows with a body to match that made the two other agents blink in pleasant surprise. Whatever one might say about their youngest colleague, his taste was excellent. 

"Colin!" Karl exclaimed merrily, "It's so good to see you after all these years!" He spread his arms to bearhug the young man in front of him, but then suddenly stumbled back as Colin seized his defenseless position and punched him square in the face. 

"Close friends," Viggo noted, looking at Sean who was standing at the patio stairs with him. "Very sociable."

"Well," Sean replied with a shrug, "Maybe he just never received the divorce papers."

At the door, Karl was wiping some blood from his split lip while Colin was still standing in the doorway, slightly hunched and ready to hit Karl again. 

"Of all the cursed people I didn't want to see again. How can you have the guts to dare showing up after all this?"

"Colin, please," the young agent straightened up and raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Let me explain..."

"You want to explain?" Colin snorted derisively and crossed his arms in front of his chest. His handsome, muscled arms in front of his chest barely covered by his white sleeveless under-shirt, as Sean noted. "Now that's a story I really wanna hear." 

Karl dared a shy smile, but Colin's face seemed to be set in stone. "Who are these guys?"

Looking back over his shoulder, Karl caught his colleagues waving merrily at Colin, their smirks definitely telling that they were enjoying the scene tremendously. 

"Look, it was a difficult time for me," Karl tried to wriggle out of it. "And a very long story, and…"

"Well, you came here to talk. I've got time. Where's my money?"

"I…" The sudden accusation seriously left Karl speechless for a few seconds, giving Sean and Viggo just enough time to exchange looks. 

"Colin, please, can't - can't we sort this out inside? We're..."

"What? In trouble? Suits you right. What's it this time? Fucked up someone's life who you can't just run away from?" Colin was trembling in anger by now, and not in an unpretty way, as Sean noted. 

"Errr… No. Not really, that is. Colin, I - "

"Fuck you. Why'd you take my money?"

"I needed some cash for the bus?" Karl leaned back defensively as Colin stepped up close to him, grabbing his collar. 

"Then what the fuck did you need my motorbike for?"

Viggo squinted in mock pain. "Ouch. That was a good one..."

"I am sorry, Colin, can't we just..."

"Shut up. Just answer me one question truthfully, for a change." Colin locked eyes with Karl, pressing him against one of the wooden pillars supporting the upper floor. "Why the hell did you leave me without a word?"

For a heartbeat, both young men stood motionless, then Karl answered softly, hardly audible: "Because I was an idiot."

Colin blinked in consternation, and didn't resist at first as Karl slung his arms around his neck, pulling him into a close kiss. Then, as the young fisherman realized what was happening, his arms started flailing wildly, trying to push away Karl, to wriggle out of his embrace.   
But the resistance was rapidly fading, the pushing and shoving melting seamlessly into touching and holding, the angry muffled shouts into a long soft sigh. 

"Close combat", Sean remarked dryly. 

After what seemed like a small eternity, the two men on the patio separated again, both of them somewhat breathless, flushed, Colin stumbling a few steps backwards. 

"All the devils, Karl. I hate you. " He said still panting, his eyes constantly trying to go out of focus. "What do you want of me?"

\---

18.07.2003, 5.20am, 2 sea miles from the shore of Yarmouth, Nova Scotia

"How is he?" Viggo asked softly.

Sean looked up at his colleague with a mixture of quiet contentedness and depression. He had been sitting on the small old-fashioned and rather ragged couch in the equally small cabin of the "Sliver" for half of the night, comforting Colin who was now curled up in his lap, fitfully asleep.

Why was it always he who ended up putting together the hearts that Karl so carelessly broke in his various conquests, he wondered silently. On the other hand - it had advantages. He brushed the unruly curls of the young man so tantalizingly close to him out of his face, his fingers lingering on his cheek.

Maybe, when all this was over, he would take some vacation and go up the coast for a fishing trip...

"Better." he answered Viggo's question.

Viggo closed the door. "Do you ever wonder how he does it?" he asked, leaning against the wooden frame.

Sean shrugged. "He is quite charming, have to give him credit for that. Maybe we should send him in first. To bedazzle your ex-wife." Sean watched Viggo's gray eye grow stormy and grinned. "On the other hand, she seems to be into moody, foul tempered grumps, so it probably wouldn't work."

Viggo just snorted. "You should wake him up. We are getting close to the shore. He might not take to kindly to us disappearing without a trace."

Sean nodded and Viggo left the cabin of Colin's small fish trawler again.

Gently Sean shook the shoulder of the young man. It had been a lively night for all of them. After they had packed their meager equipment onto the "Sliver" and cast off, Karl had made a point of staying as close to Colin as was bodily possible without actually fucking him there and then. Namely sucking face with him for nearly half an hour, leaving the task of getting them out to sea to Viggo and Sean.

After that they had pretty much made up and disappeared right into the cabin where Sean was sitting now. Viggo and Sean had sat down on deck, taking turns dozing. Watching out for ships of the American or Canadian authorities so they would be able to disappear to the smuggling compartments that Colin had sworn had already been there when he bought the "Sliver" and had 'never really used'.

They had seen some lights in the distance but none had bothered the small boat that was well known in these waters.

The peace between Colin and Karl had not lasted long. After half of the night had passed with happy grunts and sighs from the cabin, the tone had changed to shouting and then some brawling till Karl left the cabin rather hurriedly with a bruise forming rapidly around his left eye.

Neither Sean nor Viggo bothered asking what had triggered this sudden reappearance of Colin's common senses. It was sort of routine by now. Viggo gave Karl his best stern and accusing stare while Sean waited for some minutes so Colin could calm a little and then went to the cabin to see if he could lend a shoulder to cry on.

It had more been an ear to complain to that Colin had needed but in the end he had curled up in Sean's lap all the same. And Sean had been left alone with his thoughts, wondering why Karl would discard such a tasty morsel at all. But there seemed to be an endless supply of them for his fellow agent so maybe he should be grateful for always getting to feast on the leftover. Now that was a mean thought.

Colin blinked up at Sean tiredly and Sean quickly put on an encouraging smile. "We're nearly across," he announced and Colin groaned unhappily. He slowly sat up, trying in vain to straighten out his crumbled clothes.

"Why do I let him do this to me?" he asked nobody in particular but Sean answered anyway. 

"Because he has a dazzling smile, a killer kiss and is very good at looking innocent?"

"Yeah, probably." Colin managed a crooked smile. "At least I'll be rid of him again soon. And probably never hear of him again..." The last one was said with reluctant sadness and Sean felt true pity for the boy.

"Hey, how about this," he said, "I promise I'll call and let you know how it went. And if things go well, I might even get some time off so I can swing by and we can go have a beer and compare notes on the evil beast."

Colin looked at him thoughtfully, for the first time really taking in the blond man he had slept on for nearly four hours. A small smile and some curiosity crept into his eyes. "Are you trying to hit on me?" he asked a bit incredulously.

Sean shrugged. "Maybe," he replied with his best enigmatic, charming smile. "You won't find out till I call."

"Yeah." Colin got up, stretching, showing off his lean body, packed with hard muscle from working his boat every day. "Seems you agent types are all the same. Maybe I better not expect that call after all..." With that he left the cabin quickly so Sean wouldn't have a chance answer that.

'You will get that call, boy', Sean silently swore to himself. 'You certainly are worth it. Even if only for a night.'

\--

18.07.2003, 6.00am, shore of Nova Scotia, a bit east of Yarmouth

With a silent prayer of gratitude Viggo watched the "Sliver" get smaller in the distance. They had made it to Canada. That was really all that mattered, right? Having to watch Karl's shameless display of casual affection and heartfelt generosity when he said goodbye to Colin and congratulated him on his good fortune in hooking up with Sean, who was a man so much more reliable than himself, had Viggo wondering if he should strangle Karl, to save the world from further harm. Or if he should take lessons with the younger agent to see if he would be able to copy his impossible positive and ignorant outlook on life.

Had Sean not bodily hauled Colin back to the boat, the enraged young man might have answered that question for him. And now Karl stood next to Viggo with that innocent look on his face that would have looked fake to Viggo, had he not known that it was absolutely genuine.

"I really wonder why I ever left him." Karl grumbled, like he had been listening to Viggo's thoughts. "He's so sweet. But I really think he'll be better off with Sean..." He looked at his older colleague with bright, hopeful eyes. "Will you remind me that I want to call him, once this is over? You know me, I tend to forget such things..."

"Sure." Viggo said and thought, 'when hell freezes over, Karl...'.

"So..." Karl continued, rubbing his hands eagerly. "What's the plan? What cool tactics did you and Sean cook up?"

Viggo fought the urge to slap Karl and won. "We wait here till Sean returns with a car. Then we go to the Clyde River Lodge and check the situation. Ain't much sense making plans before we know how things look."

"That's all?" Karl looked disappointed. "And here I thought you would have come up with some brilliant James Bond plan by now." He sighed dramatically. "You don't really want to hand yourself over to her, do you?" he then asked more seriously. "She won't be happy to see you, I'd wager."

Viggo's thoughts drifted back to the time he had last seen her. A proud and beautiful woman, so sure she was right and the rest of the world was wrong. Glaring at him across the courtroom with all the venom she could muster, when she felt betrayed. 

His heart still hurt. Some part of him had never stopped loving the brilliant and strong-willed young woman he had met at university. And even though she had changed so much, it was still her, his Catie. The girl he had dragged off to Las Vegas, hitchhiking across the country to marry her, madly in love. The woman he had spent endless nights with, lying under the open sky when they went camping, discussing politics and philosophy with. She had been his match, the one meant for him.

He still wondered if maybe it had been his fault. If she would have stayed legal in her endeavors had he watched her more closely, had he intervened on her first signs of 'taking matters into her own hands', as she had called it. But he had watched in mute shock as she more and more resorted to violence while he was working so hard on getting his license.

Only when she tried to use him to gather confidential information had he finally been forced to admit to himself that she was not the woman he had fallen in love with anymore.

Still he had kept quiet on most of the things he knew about her, when he was called to testify against her. He just hadn't been able to become the one who condemned her to the electric chair. In the end it hadn't mattered. Evidence against her was overwhelming and so she had been sentenced. And her bright eyes staring at him accusingly had haunted him for the last four years.

But obviously his worries had been premature. Again she had fooled everybody and survived.

No, she wouldn't be happy to see him. Not at all. Especially considering the location they would meet. If she was even there.

But it was the only place Viggo knew of so he had to believe it was the right one. He wondered what he would do, if he found the small lodge they had bought from their first, hard earned money as a private retreat in shambles. She just had to be there.

"Well?" Karl asked again, eyeing his frowning friend and colleague with worry.

"She won't just shoot me, so it's the best plan we've got." Viggo said, but he wasn't too sure of that and his voice showed his lack of conviction.

Karl kept quiet, turning to watch the small path that Sean had taken from the coast to go looking for a car to 'acquire'. "We'll have to come up with a better plan, then, I suppose." he said after a long silence, "I'd really miss you, old grump."

That brought a small smile to Viggo's face. No matter how many faults Karl might have, at heart he really was a sweet guy.

\---

18.07.2003, 10.20am, Nova Scotia, in the mountains close to Clyde River

 

"SEAN!!!", both Viggo and Karl yelled in sheer panic as their car bucked wildly, painfully thrusting the two men on the passenger seat into the safety belt. 

With a bad, bad screech of ripping metal, the whole vehicle abruptly changed its course to the left, stopping instantly as its nose slammed into the embankment separating the street from the forest. With a bang loud enough to sound like a gunshot, the airbags unfolded, slamming the back of Karl's head against Viggo's nose. 

"Sean", Viggo moaned into the sudden deafening silence. "Remind me never to let you drive a car... Sean?"

"I'm okay", the other agent replied somewhat hesitantly. "I think."

"Get out", Karl mumbled, fingering at the safety belt's buckle with fingers still shaking from the sudden impact. "Must get out."

"My door's jammed", Sean stated flatly. Then he shooed Karl's hand off the buckle and opened it himself. "Get out, the two of you, or are you glued together?"

"Fuck you", Viggo moaned unenthusiastically, pushing Karl off his lap as the younger agent finally had managed to open the car's door. "Why the hell did you have to steal whole Nova Scotia's one and only two-seat Ferrari?"

"It was fast, and available." Now, it was Sean's turn to push Viggo out of the low, red Italian roadster before he scrambled out himself. 

"Fuck you, Sean." Still swaying slightly, Viggo walked down the forest dirt-road they had been driving on, looking at the thick root in the middle of it that had virtually gutted their car, its metal entrails still wreathed around it like some alien work of art. "Fuck you. You could have killed us all."

"Nah. I got us here in less than three hours, that's two less then you told us." Suddenly, Sean staggered and sat down on the ground. "I'm okay. Just need to sit down a bit."

"Where's Karl?" Viggo looked around, trying to find the young agent who had somehow disappeared. "Karl?"

Retching noises from somewhere behind the embankment announced where he was and what he probably was doing. 

"Fuck you, Sean", Viggo once more stated accusingly, glaring at the other agent on the ground. "You might have saved us two hours on the road, but now we'll have to walk the rest. And that'll take us more than two hours, more like three, I bet."

"Ah well...", the other man shrugged with a weak guilty grin. "I'm sure a walk will be great for us after all that time we've spend sitting in a car."

"Sean, you're impossible." Viggo shook his head, then carefully touched his nose, apparently quite relieved to realize it wasn't as damaged as it felt. Turning his attention back to his blond colleague on the ground, he asked: "Are you really alright?"

Sean nodded, adding: "Just a bit dizzy. But I think you should have a look after Karl. He really doesn't sound too good."

With sudden concern, Viggo briskly climbed up the embankment, scanning the dense forest for his youngest colleague. Karl was leaning with his hands against one of the huge trees, his face ashen, still heaving. 

"Karl? Are you okay?"

The other agent gave a derisive snort instead of an answer. "Do I look like I'm okay?"

"Not really," Viggo admitted. "But you're still quite pretty, be it in a somewhat slobbery way."

"Idiot", Karl moaned, grinning despite himself. "Last time I felt this bad was when I dropped off that subway."

"But that had been due mostly to that frightening amount of strawberry-vodka you have had earlier that night."

"Probably." Karl cleaned his face using his sleeve, took a deep breath and forced himself to stand upright again. "I think I'm sobering up. You've got a rock-hard head, did anyone ever tell you that?"

Viggo grinned mirthlessly. "Yeah, once or twice. But I do not think they were referring to it's physical properties."

"Sean's really incredible. How fast were we going when we hit that bank? Fifty, sixty miles?"

"About that."

"Felt like two-hundred, anyway. How's our car?"

"Deceased."

"So we're gonna walk from here on?"

Viggo nodded, silently gesturing Karl to follow him back to the road. 

"How far is that lodge from here?"

"Seven, maybe ten miles."

"I don't know about you, but I don't need three hours for seven miles," Sean all of a sudden burst into their conversation. The blond man was rummaging in the tiny trunk of their car, picking out what of their belongings he thought would be indispensable for the last part of their desperate trip. 

"It's seven miles as the crow flies," Viggo repeated acerbically. "Three hours as the agent walks. Let's go. We haven't got all day."

\---

18.07.2003, 1.20pm, Nova Scotia, Clyde River Lodge

 

Silently, the three agents crouched in the thick underbrush, looking down into the narrow valley. At it's end, close to a small, silvery creek, huddled to a thicket of elderberry bushes as high as any tree, there was a loghouse, a bit run down but apparently in use. Smoke was rising from it's chimney, softly curling in the cool air, and the car standing in front of it looked as if just having stopped there. 

But the most obvious sign that something odd was happening in Cate's and Viggo's hideout from happier days were the men patrolling the grounds in loose circles, in ones or twos, at least a dozen of them. All of them were clad head to toe in black, wearing equally black ski-masks and despite the rather friendly weather, each one sporting a small, nasty-looking MP. 

"Something's rotten in the state of Canada," Sean whispered as he handed over the looking glass to Karl who knelt in the dirt next to him. "Who are these people?"

"No idea," Viggo answered him as softly. His voice carried even more concern than usual, and as Sean raised a questioning eyebrow at him, he added: "Cate isn't the person to work with a team. And she definitely wouldn't have joined some organization."

Quietly, the three men observed the hut a while longer, each one of them lost in their own thoughts, until Karl suddenly stated to no-one in particular: "I know that ass."

"Huh?", Viggo asked rather boorishly, his sidelong glance at Sean only telling him that his colleague looked just as confused at Karl's comment as he himself. 

"This ass." The young agent handed the looking glass over to Sean, pointing at one of the black-clad figures standing close to the car, just lighting a cigarette. "I could swear I have seen this ass before. Just - without clothing."

"Karl, you're not seriously telling us that you're recognizing a guy at this distance at his backside, are you?"

"Oh yummy", Sean exclaimed as enthusiastically as he could without raising his voice. "Well, I definitely wouldn't forget that one. Where do you always pick up these guys?"

"You - !" Viggo set out to hiss some sarcastic remark at his two friends, then though again and instead hissed: "Gimme that looking glass!"

"It must have been in Washington. Can he be one of us?" Karl scratched his chin absent-mindedly. 

"Then what would he be doing here?" Sean whispered, wrestling the looking glass out of Viggo's hands again. 

"Dunno. I'm just trying not to think with my head. Don't expect me to make much sense." Suddenly, Karl gave a soft giggle, nudged Sean and said: "I've got it! Look again, Sean, and think 'cheap suit'. You know him as well."

"No kidding!", Sean exclaimed, and Viggo rubbed his temples in a vain attempt to get rid of this surreal feeling. "You think that's the FBI-blondie we've been trying to hit on last Independence day?"

"Well, you've been trying." Karl ducked away under the playful slap of his colleague, adding: "And then, that slender one at the corner of the hut would be...."

"His freckled brunet fellow? Narrow nose, very white teeth?" Sean gave a long, wistful sigh and rolled onto his back. "How could I ever forget him?"

"So the two hormone-ridden wrecks are seriously telling me that this are regular FBI-agents out there?" 

Karl and Sean nodded almost simultaneously, each one a slightly distant, dreamy look on his face. 

"Why the hell would the FBI guard the President's kidnapped husband?"

"If he's here at all...," Sean suggested carefully, but Viggo cut him off. 

"She's here, I know."

"How? Got that bad feeling?"

Viggo scowled at his blond friend, then pointed down at the lodge and explained: "See that blue woolen scarf that's lying on the bench on the porch? I've given it to her on our first wedding anniversary."

"That's pretty... convincing...", Sean stated less convinced than his words would have let to believe. 

"If you need any more proof," Viggo asked, "who else would manage to make a bunch of grown-up FBI-agents take off their boots before entering the lodge?"

"Not a nice girl, huh?" Sean looked at his long-time colleague, asking softly: "So you're still gong to go down there, get yourself caught and distract them?"

"I'd rather prefer to go down there, make Cate notice it's me, and then run away, distracting them all and not getting caught, but yes, that's the plan. So all you gotta do is deal with the remaining guys in black, get Mr. Tyler out and then be off as soon as you can."

Sean and Karl nodded in uneasy silence. It was a dangerous, unprepared, mindless thing they were going to do, and none of them had any better idea. 

"Viggo?", Karl said softly after a moment, "take good care of you. We will still need you to show us the way out of this darn forest."

Viggo just grinned, and even managed to keep his smile on and his voice steady as Sean hugged him in a simple gesture of deep affection. 

"Just sneak in when they all are shooting in the other direction. Take care of Mr. Tyler, I'll take care of myself."

And then, without giving the two of them even the slightest chance for making the moment grow any more emotional, Viggo sneaked off, seeking a path down the slope towards the lodge. 

With a wide grin, Karl rubbed his hands, exclaiming: "This is all so exciting!" 

\-----

18.07.2003, 1.30pm, Nova Scotia, Clyde River Lodge

Crouching between the pile of firewood and the back wall of the lodge Viggo asked himself two questions: how had any of the FBI agents guarding the premise gotten through their basic training without getting send back home and how was he going to get Cate's attention and away from the lodge without getting shot on the spot.

It had been frighteningly simple to sneak up to the house. Granted, that he knew the grounds well had definitely helped as well as the fact that he and Cate had often used this place for covered ops training so he simply knew which way to take if he wanted to stay unnoticed. But still they could have paid a bit more attention to their task. Having a cigarette break was all fine and dandy but not if three of them gathered in a little circle, ignoring their surroundings completely.

Obviously there was a reason why the CIA was guarding the White House and not the FBI.

'Yeah, fucking in the kitchen is so much more entertaining.' A sarcastic little voice in his head remarked and Viggo winced. Silently he swore to himself to never ever, ever again have sex while on duty. If he got out of this alive.

But that still didn't help him with his current dilemma. He had wisely not told Sean and Karl that he had no real plan on how exactly he was going to lure Cate away. Even the idea of facing her gave him shivers. From what he had seen on the footage filmed in the White House she still even looked the same. She had cut her hair, but apart from that, she was still his fierce and beautiful ex-wife.

Maybe he should just try his luck and see if he could get into the lodge unnoticed as well. Wouldn't it be nice if for once things went much better than anticipated and he managed to just steal the president's husband from under Cate's nose?

Slowly he moved to the backdoor, staying in the protective cover of the firewood pile as long as possible. The door was secured with a sturdy padlock, just like it had always been. One could never know what kind of weirdoes were out in the Canadian wilderness after all. But Viggo didn't bother digging out his lockpicks. Instead he simply checked the small upturned plant pot right next to the door and retrieved the key he had placed there years ago. 

It was a little rusty and the lock grumbled as he unlocked it. Maybe the noise would be enough to draw Cate's attention. Viggo considered drawing his gun but then just lowered his head in defeat. Should it come to that he'd never be able to fire a shot at her anyway.

Slowly he inched open the door. When nothing happened inside he took a deep breath and looked in. And right into Cate's cold and fierce eye facing him over the barrel of a gun trained right on the door, on him.

She had probably planned on shooting whoever was outside but now she just stared at him. "You." She finally muttered. "I should have known." Before she could say anymore Viggo ducked back outside and ran, this time a hell of a lot less stealthy as he now wanted the attention of the FBI agents guarding the lodge.

For once, Cate's wits seemed to desert her, as he ran out after him, shouting at the top of her lunges for her men to come with her and hunt him down. And curiously also not to kill him. Maybe he wasn't the only one here who still had feelings, he mused, as he dodged low hanging branches and large rocks jutting from the ground, running in the general direction of the river, always making enough noise that his hunters could keep up with him.

'And what will you do when they catch you?' that sarcastic little voice asked. 'Make up and convince her of a better life with you? This time visit her on death row?'

Ignoring it was not that difficult as several shots ripped through the branches around him and he heard Cate not too far behind: "Don't shot him, you idiots!!" Maybe a little more distance would be a good idea.

But now they proved they were trained agents after all and with Cate, who knew the grounds just as well as he did, giving them directions, he soon had to realize that getting away was not very likely. Cate was herding him towards the cliff over the river and he knew damn well that there was no escape from that place unless one risked the fatal jump into a wild river, too shallow not to break your neck.

He tried hard to evade their trap, but there simply was no route of escape open to him. Too many of them had followed Cate's command and joined in the hunt. At least that meant that Sean and Karl wouldn't have much trouble with getting out Mr. Tyler.

Before him he could suddenly see sunlight trough the branches. With another few steps he was out in the open and then he stopped abruptly at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the river way below. It looked still as nasty and wild as the last time he had seen it. Only then he had been up here for a picnic with his wife.

He heard many footsteps behind him and slowly turned to face several masked men and his wife, emerging from the trees.

"Hello, Cate." He said, pushing sweaty hair from his eyes. "Nice to see you again."

All their guns were carefully trained on him now and with sudden clarity Viggo realized that he probably wouldn't get out of this alive. With a wry grin he raised his hands. Better keep talking, keep her busy then, to give Sean and Karl more time.

Cate took a step forward but stayed out of his reach and out of the line of fire of her men. "Viggo", she said and he tried to imagine there was a tiny bit of sadness in her voice.

"You could have dropped in when you were at the White House," Viggo said, "to share a drink or something."

"Your humor hasn't improved." Cate stated, frowning. "I should have known you would show up here. You should have stayed out of this."

"I can't" Viggo looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of doubt and found none. Just like he had to look to her. "Couldn't you at least have picked a shift when I wasn't there? Or do you enjoy ruining my life?"

Now there was genuine pain in her eyes. "Ruining your life?!" she spat. "That is all you ever think about, isn't it? Your life, your career! What about me? What about the world? Your so fucking selfish!"

"What has kidnapping an innocent man, a good father to boot, to do with the world, honey?" he shot back.

"He's married to the president of the United States. He knew what he was getting into. He will be used as leverage for the greater good! Can't you see that? Sometimes scarifies have to be made to achieve something good."

Again the same old argument. Viggo couldn't how often they had had it but it had never been at gun point before. "Cate," he yet again tried to reason with her, "the end doesn't justify the means. It never will. Please..."

"No!" She took another step forward. "Viggo, please stop! You know that my believes are firm. Why can't you see that I'm right..." Her voice changed from angry to gentle and send a shiver down Viggo's spine. "It is not to late, love, you can still join me in my struggle! We could be together again!"

Viggo laughed bitterly. "After I testified against you? You would just forgive me?"

There was sudden hope in her eyes now and she took yet another step forward, now putting herself in the line of fire. "I know you just did what you had to. What you thought was right. But I love you, Viggo. I still love you."

That hurt more than words could describe.

"You love me...?" he whispered.

She nodded and Viggo fervently wished she had just shot him on the spot. That would have been far less cruel. Because even though he still loved her just as much he could never take up her offer.

"I love you too." He said, his vision cloudy with tears. "But I can't. I simply can't."

The cold returned to her eyes as quickly as if a switch had been flicked and the gun in her hand rose again, the barrel pointing straight between his eyes. "Obviously you don't love me enough." She stated coldly.

He didn't reply. Instead he kept his eyes on the gun. She was only a step away and he was now calculating his chances. "So what happens now?" he asked.

Her lips pressed together to a thin line. "I will go through with my plan, good Mr. Tyler will serve his purpose. You won't be able to safe him. You won't be around anymore." Her finger was quivering on the trigger.

Viggo smiled. "You think so? He's won't be at the lodge anymore, when you get back there. My friends will have gotten him out while you were out playing hide and seek. Maybe I won't live to see it but Mr. Tyler will be safe."

For a moment barely concealed fury close to madness shone in Cate's eyes, but then the calm cold returned yet again. "No, he won't get away." She said. With a quick move she took a small devise out of her backpocket.

The moment Viggo realized what it was, she had already flicked off the safety and as he rushed forward to stop her she pressed the red button.

The explosion shook the ground and they all momentarily lost their footing. As Viggo raised his head, he saw fire and smoke billowing up behind the hills where the lodge had been.

\-----

18.07.2003, 1.34pm, Nova Scotia, Clyde River Lodge

"Can you remember his name?", Karl asked in a hushed whisper as he knelt down next to Sean, seeking some cover behind some shrub. "Allan maybe?"

"Who?" The other agent's concentration was fixed on the last two remaining black-clad men guarding the front entrance of the lodge. All others had run off into the forest following a furious and yelling Cate, who in turn ran to catch up with Viggo, bolting like a deer into the hills. 

"Blondie. Cute-ass. Remember?"

"What?" Sean turned around, staring at his young colleague in stunned bewilderment. "You're incredible, Karl. Can't you for once keep your mind on the subject at hand?"

"Wish I had this subject at hand...." Karl grinned widely at his deliberate misunderstanding, pointing at the lodge. "How many you think are still inside?"

"Two, maybe three. Not more. All of them guarding the front."

"Could be worse." Shifting his weight onto his toes, Karl got ready for another ducked run through the forest. "I'm heading for that odd tree next the rear entrance. Gimme cover."

"It's an oak, Karl, just an oak", Sean moaned softly, but the young agent already dashed off, moving almost soundlessly through the shrubbery. 

When he was safely hiding behind one of the elderberry bushes, Karl motioned Sean to follow, and his colleague did so without hesitation. As soon as they were kneeling next to each other, Karl asked softly: "Or was it Ashton?"

"You seriously need a stable relationship. Or several, maybe. Now shut up and concentrate. Can you see if the rear door is locked?"

Karl craned his head in an almost unnatural angle, staring over his shoulder at the door. "Nope, seems to stand open an inch."

"What a bunch of nitwits. Alright, you go in, there must be a separate room to the rear where they keep him." His colleague nodded in silent agreement. "I'll stay out here, taking care no one's sneaking up on us from behind."

Once again, Karl nodded, then moved out from behind his cover in almost catlike grace and sneaked up the few steps that led to the lodge's rear entrance. 

And indeed, the door wasn't locked, instead standing open a bit, and carefully, the young agent peeked inside.   
As to be expected, there was a small kitchen inside, with two doors leading into other rooms on the right and an open doorway that led straight on into a living room that encompassed the whole front half of the small building. Karl couldn't suppress a smirk as he noticed the heinous, light blue knitted small sign that marked one of the two doors as leading to the restroom. That definitely was something he'd be able to poke at Viggo for the next few years to come. If Cate had blackmailed him to allow this unspeakable thing in his place? Or had she put it up with a defiant snarl once they had split up?

Still grinning, Karl pushed to door open a bit more, just enough to be able to look around the corner and ensure no one was sitting at the small kitchen table. As he found the room to be clean, he silently sneaked inside, all the time keeping low to the ground so he wouldn't be seen immediately as soon as one of the remaining guards remembered their jobs and looked over his shoulder.   
There were soft sounds of men talking coming from the living room, and judging by the tip of a black boot Karl could see from his crouched position, there were two men sitting, smoking, chatting. And they did so in the right half of the room, so they wouldn't be able to see anything happening in the kitchen.   
Or the room they kept the President's husband in, for example, Karl thought grimly. 

Looking up, he noticed with a certain sinking feeling in his stomach that the room he supposed the captive in had been secured with a state-of-the-art card lock. The young agent was by far the one less apt at picking locks, and he would have bet even Viggo would have had troubles picking this one.   
It was only when he was almost about to sneak out of the place again to tell Sean that they would have to try via another way, that he noticed a white credit-card like piece of plastic on a violently orange key-chain dangling from a hook right next to the door. 

This was almost too easy to believe, Karl thought as he forced himself not to rush over and grab the card. But maybe the luck is truly with those simple in mind...

Moving almost in slow-motion, he sneaked over to the wall, careful not to make the wooden floor creak audibly for the men in the living-room next door. Taking the key-chain, Karl send up a silent prayer as he readied his gun and knelt down next to the door.   
Then, swift enough not to make the lock beep in protest, he pulled the card through, hoping it wasn't one of those locks that beeped each time they opened. 

The lock took it's time to consider his next action, and as it finally opened the door it did so with a distinct beep. Yet at the same time, the men in the living-room broke into boisterous laughter, and apparently didn't notice a thing.   
Karl remained motionless in his crouching position at the door for a moment longer, quite disbelieving his own good luck. But as after quite a while, no one in the living room reacted, he finally pushed the door open, praying that Mister Tyler was smart enough to stay quiet. 

Else, this would probably end very messy. And Karl wasn't sure who would be alive to clean up afterwards. 

With a sigh of relief, the young agent found his President's husband sitting on one of the narrow beds inside, his hands tied, his amazing brown eyes wide with fear and exhaustion, but his chin set with grim determination. 

Swiftly, Karl moved inside, gesturing the other man to remain silent. Rushing towards the bed as silently as possible, he asked: "Good to see you alive, Sir. Can you walk?"

To his great relief, the States' most favorite husband nodded, his eyes telling how much he was relieved to see one of his personal bodyguards after all that had happened to him during the last hours. 

Either it's the stress or I really have never noticed that Mister Tyler had eyes big enough to drown in and of a brown so deep it looked almost like mahogany, Karl noted with a blink as he helped the other man to get on his feet again. What a handsome guy... But the thought of Mr. Tyler's wife, especially her rather unpleasant approach towards skinning and flogging made him quickly drop any further thought he might have entertained in that direction. 

Gesturing the President's husband to stay behind him and close to the wall, Karl walked silently back to the door, checking if the men in the living room were still oblivious of the happenings in the back of the room, only to abruptly withdraw his head as he heard one of them standing up.  
Apparently, all the chatting and drinking had gone on long enough, and one of the two guys had decided it was time for a trip to the toilet. Clenching his teeth, Karl swiftly closed the door, with full intend pinching one finger in the door so it would look closed enough and yet wouldn't lock again. 

"Just a second", Karl whispered to the young man in his back, "With a bit of luck, he'll just leave and we can simply walk out of here." Seeing the fear in Mister Tyler's eyes, the young agent added with a wide, encouraging smile: "Don't worry. We're professionals."

 

Outside, Sean had meanwhile wondered several times what the hell Karl was doing in there. Sneaking into that one room couldn't seriously be taking that much time, could it?

With a deep breath, Sean tried to concentrate on the soft chatter he could hear from the remaining guards in front of the lodge. Yes, this was truly that blond FBI-agent they had been hitting on last fourth of July. His voice wasn't too characteristic, but his colleague had this soft Italian accent that was still giving Sean shivers despite the situation. 

And, unlike Karl, Sean still remembered how his colleague had disappeared after a while, perfectly coinciding with the sudden departure of said blond agent. And how Karl had been talking of 'Adrian' for days afterwards and his peculiar habit of wearing deep green silk boxer shorts. 

I can't believe that I remember more of Karl's affairs than he himself, Sean thought shaking his head. Crouching deeper towards the ground, he looked around the low pillars the lodge had been built on, trying to gather a vague idea of where the guards were standing. There wasn't more room than twenty, maybe thirty inches between the ground and the huts floor, yet it was enough for Sean to spot two pairs of black boots close to the parking car standing in front of the lodge. 

Sean was already about to sit up again as an odd glow caught his attention, and with a looming dread, he turned his head to look at the lodge's underside. Well hidden in the shadows of the thick beams supporting the floor, at least a dozen unpleasant-looking devices were staring at him from red gleaming LED eyes, and there was very little doubt about what these devices were meant to do.   
And that they had just been activated. 

"Oh FUCK!", Sean exclaimed, all stealth abandoned for speed, and he jumped from his crouching position onto the lodges' rear steps in hardly more than a single motion. "KARL!", he yelled, opening the door with his sheer momentum. 

In front of him, a very surprised-looking man in black clothes stood in the doorframe leading to the restroom, the lower hem of his black sweater between his teeth, his hands busy zipping up his trousers. "What the f....", the guard could still mutter, then Sean's fist impacted with his jaw hard enough to slam the man back into the living room in a perfect flying arc. 

Almost simultaneously, the other door to Sean's right was jerked open, Karl staring at his colleague in utter disbelief. 

"Run!" Sean yelled at him with enough urge in his voice to quench any possible questions. "RUN!" Grabbing Karl's arm, he pulled him out of the bedroom into the kitchen, then stepped forward and grabbed the stunned President's husband. 

Behind him, Sean could hear Karl fire two shots in the rough direction of the remaining guard in the living room, then he had Mister Tyler and hurled him with plain violence towards the exit. 

"Go!", he snarled at Karl, motioning towards the still tied-up hostage. Turning towards the living room, he gave two more shots to keep any remaining guards from acting the hero, then ran after Karl and Mister Tyler who already were running through the forest behind the hut, arm in arm, up a bush-covered slope. 

"RUN!", Sean yelled once more, dashing through the underbrush, trying to bring as much space between him and the highly explosive hut. Behind him, he heard a shot fired, and he had just enough time to see Karl's right tight spurt a bloody gust, the young agent stumbling, falling on top of the already swaying President's husband. 

Then a blast strong enough to lift Sean off his feet slammed through the forest. Fire billowed through the trees, pieces of shredded wood hurling through the air screeching worse than any grenade. Sean hit the ground like kicked by a giant, dirt and branches hailing down on him, smoke and dust making the air hardly breathable. 

Despite his ringing head and the feeling that his entire ribcage was broken, Sean forced himself back up on his feet, scanning the forest for any threats. Or, scanning what remained of the forest. 

The whole lodge had disappeared, leaving a huge crater, flattening the whole elderberry thicket, setting fire to most of the surrounding trees, some of them having been broken like matchsticks. The explosion had blasted off most of the leaves from the trees closest to the hut, and through the smoke and the soft rain of shredded leaves, Sean could see the guards that had been still outside the hut getting on their feet again. 

Somewhere to his left, Sean thought he heard gunfire, but with his ears still numb from the explosion, he wasn't too sure of it. The remaining guards ran towards a huge stack of firewood near the end of the valley, where Sean could make out the shapes of several motocross-bikes in the haze. Aiming for the first of the running terrorists, Sean noticed with a certain relief that it was the blond agent, his dark-haired colleague only a few steps behind. But the relief immediately changed into an odd mix of fury and defeat as Sean realized he wasn't able to pull the trigger. Helplessly, the gun softly shaking in his hands, the agent watched as the black-clad FBI-men turned terrorists jumped onto their bikes and headed off into the forest with neck-breaking speed. 

Even after they had already vanished from sight, Sean still stared at the forest, then put down his gun, his face without expression. Suddenly, he remembered Karl and Mister Tyler, and running as fast as his battered condition allowed, he jogged through the smoking forest towards the shrubs where he had seen them fall. 

Covered under a layer of shredded leaves and dirt, he found Karl lying on top of the President's husband, unmoving, his right leg bleeding like shit. 

"Karl?", he asked, the single word making his chest ache so hard Sean winced in pain. "Karl?"

A rough, coughing sound from his colleague told him that the young man was still alive, and with relief to great to put in words, Sean turned Karl on his back. The wound on his leg looked quite bad, he was loosing a lot of blood, but else, Karl seemed more or less unharmed.

Suddenly, Mister Tyler moved as well, shaking his head as if to get rid of the odd, beeping sound in his ears. 

"Sir?"; Sean asked, grinding his teeth with pain. "Sir, are you okay?"

The President's husband turned around abruptly, staring at Sean with wide eyes, asking: "How's my daughter? Is little Lesley alright?"

"Yes, Sir", Sean reassured him, already half his attention on his colleague's wound. "She's perfectly fine, though probably a bit worried. As is your wife."

"Good. Good." Mister Tyler nodded, looked around, then exclaimed: "Oh my God! Agent Urban, you're hurt!"

Karl coughed, tried a brave grin that looked only a bit sleazy to Sean's eyes, saying: "Just a scratch, Sir. But I'll need someone to stop the bleeding." 

Speechless in disbelieve, Sean watched as his young colleague expertly told the President's husband where to press on his thigh to minimize the bleeding until the valley had been secured and someone could care for a more durable solution. 

At least, Sean thought, this way both of them won't get into any other further trouble. "They seem to have fled", he said huskily as he stood up. "I'll go have a look around to make sure we're safe here."

Both men on the ground nodded, and as he walked away, he still didn't believe what he heard from behind him. 

"You're doing this very well, Sir", he heard Karl's voice, followed by a soft cough. 

"Don't talk. Breathe evenly."

"No, really. You're saving my life here."

"Oh stop that. After all, I'd be a bucket of cinders right now if it hadn't been for you. I'm just acting the human cork here."

"Sir, if you'd safe me again, I'd gladly get shot once more..."

Sean moaned soundlessly and fled into the forest. 

\---

18.07.2003, 1.46pm, Nova Scotia, Cliff above Clyde River

Viggo tried to get back to his feet as quickly as possible, his eyes scanning the treetops where the smoke was rising in an obfuscating cloud. Whatever Cate had rigged the lodge with, it had produced a monumental blast. He had to get back there, had to check on Sean and Karl. On Mr. Tyler.

He drew his gun from where he had shoved it into the waistband of his trouser, stepping over FBI agents, who where in various stages of confusion, alternately staring at the smoke, at Viggo and at each other, trying to decide what to do next.

Some of them were quicker then the other, stumbling to there feet and off towards the trees, obviously trying to get away. Some shrill voice in the back of Viggo's mind was trying to tell him something about this fact, but he was to occupied with the image floating before his mind's eye: that of Sean and Karl, charred to the bone.

But then Cate's voice stopped him dead in his tracks. "Where do you think you are going?"

He turned around slowly to again face her. And the gun that was still in her hands and firmly trained on his head.

She had gotten up too, now standing with her back to the edge of the cliff, her long blonde hair partially coming free from its tight braid, blowing in the wind, her eyes fierce. She looked like an ancient creature of wrath and vengeance. But for the first time in his life Viggo's heart remained untouched.

"You are fucking mad!" he snarled at her. "That were my best friends! My ONLY friends! You bitch!"

A smile lit her face. "So it hurt, huh? Good!"

In a fluid motion Viggo brought up the gun, its barrel now pointing at her face as well.

For a long moment both of them stood frozen like that, guns trained on each other, while around them the FBI men scrambled to their feet and fled in various directions, quickly leaving them all alone on the remote top of the cliff.

"Well? What's it gonna be?" Cate finally asked, her voice sweet and cruel. "You gonna shoot me, Agent Mortensen?"

Viggo felt the gun waver in his hand. He wanted to kill her, wanted her removed from his life once and for all and at last. But his finger refused to move.

"You know damn well that you can't do it." Cate continued and then chuckled softly. "You're a fool, Viggo. You are weak. An idiot. You know it and what's more important I know it too. Luckily I am not as weak..."

He saw her finger curl around the trigger and he knew, she was right. He would never be able to shoot her. Slowly he lowered the gun till it hung loosely in his hands.

For one last time he tried to find some compulsion in her face, but she just smirked. With a soft sigh he closed his eyes. Better not to see her face, when she pulled the trigger. Better to believe it was somebody else. Anybody.

Then the shot rang out, impossibly loud.

Viggo waited for the pain to start. For the feeling of dying.

Only when nothing happened did he open his eyes again. What he saw was Cate stumbling backward, a look of utter surprise, pain and rage on her face. Just as Viggo took a confused step forward, her searching feet did not find ground anymore and she stumbled over the edge of the cliff, disappearing from his view.

Viggo stared at the spot where she had been only moments before in shock. It took him to long to move. When he reached the edge himself, she was gone, swallowed by the wild river way below.

He heard steps behind him and turned quickly, gun raised. 

"That was not exactly your best performance, Agent Mortensen." Mr. Weaving said, lowering his still-smoking gun. "I would have expected a little more backbone from one of my better agents."

Viggo just stared at him in confused silence, unable to comprehend that his superior had so suddenly shown up and obviously saved his life.

Mr. Weaving stepped forward and pushed down the barrel of the gun that was still pointing at him. Then he passed Viggo to gaze down the cliff. He raised his wrist to his mouth, speaking into the com-unit he wore. "Check the river downstream. Target person is presumed dead but body should be recovered if possible."

Then he turned to Viggo again. "I believe I had you confined to your quarters, Agent. What the heck are you doing here?"

Viggo swallowed hard, trying to get a grip on the situation again. "I... Sir, I believe that same question would apply to you... with all due respect..."

Mr. Weaving raised an immaculate eyebrow. "Agent Mortensen, you may not be a reliable CIA employee but luckily that does not apply to every CIA agent. We were able to discover the location of this hide out from your background. So of course we sent people here to check it out. We arrived only a few minutes behind you it seems."

Again Viggo's eyes were drawn to the billowing smoke. "The president's husband, did they get them out in time, Sir?"

For the first time since this whole mess had started Viggo saw Mr. Weaving smile. "Yes, indeed. Your two colleagues were able to get him out by an inch. Seems you have escaped flogging and skinning once more, Agent. I'm sure Mr. Tyler will be very grateful for your timely rescue. And I must admit that we would probably not have been able to get him out unharmed without your assistance. I'm sure this will mollify the President somewhat."

Viggo sighed in relief. Both about the fact that Mr. Tyler was save and about the fact that Karl and Sean were okay.

Mr. Weaving frowned. "Do not be relieved yet, Agent Mortensen. You still face an investigation on why you left your apartments and the fact that you lost the President's husband is not forgotten either."

Nodding meekly, Viggo followed his superior back down to the place where the lodge had been. Only when Mr. Weaving was not looking, did he throw back one last look to the cliff, wondering if Cate truly was dead. She had to be. Nobody could survive being shot and the plunge from the cliff. That would have stretched anybody's luck too far. Still an uneasiness remained in the pit of his stomach.

\---


End file.
